“Yeah?”
“Should we get ready for bed?”
We’ve fallen asleep together before, but always fully dressed. We had sleepovers as kids, although never in the same bed, and we both wore pyjamas. I don’t wear pyjamas to bed anymore, and I’m pretty sure Casey doesn’t either.
“We should.”
“Do you want to meet me here in a few minutes?”
Casey pecks my cheek. “See you in a few.”
18
CASEY
I hang out in my room for a bit while Em does his bedtime routine, and then I go and do mine. A strange quivering sensation has taken up residence in my chest, right beneath my breastbone. My stomach isn’t faring much better, which is crazy because this is Em. We’ve fallen asleep together before. Admittedly we were fully dressed and in the friend zone. I take a deep breath. Sharing a bed is no big deal.
I strip to my boxer pants and go to his room. His door is open, and he’s sitting in bed with the quilt tucked around his waist. He’s taken his glasses off. His arms are folded, and he’s chewing his lower lip. His stare trails down by body. I shiver. I don’t feel like I’m on display when I’m swimming, but now I do. My fingers twitch as I resist the urge to use my arms to cover my body. He beckons and holds the quilt up, inviting me into bed. He’s wearing underwear too. He lies as I reach the bed. I climb in and lie beside him. We face each other, hands tucked against our chests.
“Why is this awkward?” Em asks.
“No idea.”
But it is.
“Do you normally wear underwear in bed?”
I blink and part my lips. “Um, yeah. You?”
“No.”
“You sleep naked?”
“Yes, I prefer it. But I thought it might make you uncomfortable.”
He’s not wrong.
He strokes my face, which triggers butterflies in my stomach. “You okay?”
“Yes.” I close my eyes for a second and take a breath. “Nervous. Which is crazy. All we’re going to do is fall asleep.”
“And cuddle. If you still want to?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“And maybe kiss?” His eyes glimmer with hope.
I breathe out slowly. This is Em, the guy I feel most comfortable around in the world. The man I love to hug and snuggle and, as I’ve discovered the last few days, kiss. So what if we’re wearing nothing but underwear? It’s still Em. I shuffle closer, wrap my arm around his waist, and peck his lips. Em closes the small gap between us, presses his palm against my cheek, and kisses me more fiercely. It’s still a closed-mouth kiss, but the force of it shocks me. He presses his chest to mine. His body is warm, and his fine hair tickles my skin. His cock presses against my thigh, getting harder by the second. I gasp and jerk back.
“S-sorry.” Em’s face becomes as bright as molten lava. He throws the quilt aside as though he’s going to bolt. He probably is.
I put my hand on his arm. “Don’t. Stay. It’s okay.”
“I got carried away.”
“It’s fine.”
“Is it?” Worry dulls his eyes.
